


Where All The Stars Align

by pickapersonality



Category: Halsey (Musician), PVRIS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Halsani, Past Character Death, i still don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickapersonality/pseuds/pickapersonality
Summary: The bar was low, darkened by its wooden panelling that lined the walls, and relatively busy, clusters of people drawn around circular tables, by the pool games and then up on barstools, flirting with each other, the tired-looking bartender, or the alcohol in their glasses.It wasn't a place known for attracting happy people. But then, when had Ashley Frangipane ever really been happy?-Ashley is drowning her sorrows down in fabricated forget, while Melanie is hoping for life to get better. Somehow, it works.





	Where All The Stars Align

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from, but it happened. Oops. I still have no idea how to really use this archive. Sorry about Lynn. I feel bad posting this the day after I met her, and she was so sweet. 
> 
> Title from You And I by Pvris.
> 
> Update as of 30/12/17:  
> I am, of course, aware of the allegations that have been made against Melanie Martinez. I don't want to 'take sides'; whatever actually happened (or didn't happen) isn't any of my business, and it would be very stupid of me to do so, bearing in mind how serious these allegations are - they're not simply another piece of harmless gossip.  
> I don't want my works or account to be associated with these claims, and did even briefly consider re-writing this oneshot with Hayley Williams replacing Melanie, but quickly realised that it wouldn't work, and would essentially become a completely different story. So, I am leaving it in its original state, but please do not assume that by using Melanie as a character I am 'on her side'. I don't know what happened; nobody except the two of them can know what happened.  
> Melanie Martinez is simply used as a character here.  
> To be honest, I don't even listen to her music anymore - she just sprung to mind when I planned this, due to her eccentricity. I still do love some of Halsey's music, though.  
> Thanks for taking the time to read this. :)

The bar was low, darkened by its wooden panelling that lined the walls, and relatively busy, clusters of people drawn around circular tables, by the pool games and then up on barstools, flirting with each other, the tired-looking bartender, or the alcohol in their glasses. 

It wasn't a place known for attracting happy people. But then, when had Ashley Frangipane ever really been happy? 

She sighed, staring down into the golden contents of her dusty glass. She'd been spending one-too-many a night here recently, just sitting alone at the end of the bar, downing glass after glass of whatever the bartender recommended, until she had to stumble home, vision unfocused and throat raw from puking up the contents of her stomach. She wasn't sure whether the glances thrown her way were disparaging or sympathetic, at this point. 

It had been this way for a while. She could give the exact number of hours, if she really wanted to, since the funeral. Black clothes, grey rain and a sea of umbrellas, mixed in with people who wore their sympathetic smiles like badges, before jumping back into their shiny cars and speeding off, mumbling about how impractical it was the hold the service so far out, and how muddy their tires were going to be. 

Ashley hadn't cared. Lynn had wanted to be buried out in the countryside. Her words, spoken in that beautiful, low voice, came to Ashley's ears as if the other girl had been sitting right beside her the entire time. 

"Not here, in this city, Ash," With a wolffish grin and a nudge. "It's so fucking dirty. I want my grave to be somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. Piss off everyone you invite to the funeral." 

She'd nodded jokingly. "Hey, I might die first, you know." 

Lynn had rolled her eyes. "Don't ruin my meticulous planning!" 

Steeling her eyes and lips, Ashley raise the glass and took another gulp, barely even registering the burn of the alcohol going down. Drink away your sorrows. Just like Lynn had drunk away hers, the night before she got in that car and sped away- just to pick up some groceries, or something. What she'd even been miserable about, Ashley didn't fucking know.

Ashley had opened the door expecting a grinning brunette, slurring her words, that slashed eyebrow raised obnoxiously. Not the two policemen, in their black uniforms and grim faces arranged into sympathetic masks. 

"Another one?" The bartender gestured towards her now-empty glass, reaching to take it for a refill, and just as she was about to nod and mutter something in the affirmative, another voice broke in. 

"It's on me." 

Just as she was about to mutter some short snappy phrase to make it clear she wasn't interested, the person in question hopped up onto the neighbouring barstool, and offered her a coy grin. And Ashley, although not one to question people's physical appearance, had to shut her mouth in fear of something very rude-sounding coming out. 

The girl was probably around her age, maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, and had a short, petite figure, but that was where the similarities stopped. 

Wearing a pale blue baby-doll dress, complete with a schoolgirl collar and ribbon tie, and a short, apron-type skirt, her legs were clad in teal tights, ending in a pair of baby pink docs. Her nails, clutched around a pink, sparkly purse, were short but painted a bizarre shade of lemon yellow, the thumbs white. Her eyes were made up heavily with teal creases, lashes long and spidery, whilst her lips sported a wild shade of green. But her hair was what made Ashley's eyes really widen. It was died two different colours, parted perfectly in the middle; the left side a bubblegum pink, the right a vibrant teal, carrying on into her meticulously-straight fringe. 

The result was something that looked like what Ashley imagined a fairy from Alice in Wonderland to be. Albeit, she noted, a very pretty fairy. 

Thankfully, the girl ignored her staring eyes (probably being used to strange looks), and spoke again. "You looked lonely, here by yourself. Nice hair, by the way." 

Maybe her hair was a very pretty shade of blue, but Ashley's was nothing compared to this girl's. "Um… thanks. You too." 

To her credit, the girl laughed, a bright, sparkly sound. "Thank you." 

The bartender slid two full, amber glasses over the bar. Melanie opened her purse, about to pay, when the guy shook his head, grinning. 

"On the house for the first person who's ever got more than a single word out of her." 

Ashley cast him a glare, but quickly smiled. He wasn't that bad, really. He let her stay and drink for hours, while he kicked out more rowdy customers. The girl laughed again. 

"Thanks." 

"No problem." 

He moved away again, to serve somebody at the opposite end of the bar, and the girl looked back at Ashley. "So, what's your name?" 

What was the harm in telling this girl? She'd barely said anything so far and was already way more interesting than any of the creepy old guys who had tried to hit on her in the past. "Ashley. Yours?" 

"Nice to meet you, Ashley. Melanie," She lifted her glass. "Cheers to downing our sadness and holding each others' hair back while we puke later." 

Ashley couldn't help it; she chuckled, and clinked their glasses together. 

"So," Melanie started again, once she'd downing a good portion of her glass. "What brings you here, to this dreary end of Brooklyn?" 

"My girlfriend died." What? Where had that come from? Ashley's eyes widened at her own words. This Melanie was a complete stranger, why was she telling her that? 

Well, may as well follow through with it now. The truth was always less messy than a lie. 

Melanie's eyebrows raised a touch. "Oh. When?" 

Feeling an immense rush of gratitude for her lack of false 'sorry's, Ashley counted back in her head. "Uhh… three months, now. The funeral, anyway." 

"Was she sick, or…?" Melanie's voice was soft, quiet. "If you don't mind me asking." 

"Nah, it's fine. No, she wasn't." To her horror, her voice caught on the end of the sentence, and she had to breathe deeply for a moment to lift her tone off the jagged hook that had threatened tears to spill over her lower lashes. "Car crash." 

"Well, shit," the other girl's eyes were wide, laced with genuine sympathy. "I'd say sorry, but that's not much help, is it?" 

Ashley shook her head, some red lipstick smearing on the side of her glass as she took another sip. "No. But thanks anyway." 

A comfortable silence ensued, and the background noise of the bar seemed to wash back over them; some old guy was whooping at his win in a pool game. A couple of women were exchanging loud comments about somebody they both clearly shared a mutual dislike for. In a way, it was comforting. In another, it was the most dreary display of humankind Ashley had ever heard. 

"So, what about you?" Melanie snapped back to attention at Ashley's question. "Why're you here?" 

"Doesn't hold a candle up to yours, but," She twisted her mouth around as if something sour were in it. "My dad kicked me out of the house a few weeks ago." Her nails tapped gently on the side of her glass, producing an anxious tink, tink sound. "I've been couch-surfing, but I'm slowly running out of people to ask." 

"Why the fuck did he do that?" Ashley blurted the words out, and Melanie barked a short, sharp laugh. 

"He's a homophobic son of a bitch," was her answer, and Ashley curled her hidden hand into a fist, nails biting into her palm. For some reason, she could feel rage boiling in the pit of her stomach, hot and angry, for this girl she'd met twenty minutes ago. 

"That's shitty," was her genius response. "So, you got anywhere to go?" 

Melanie shook her head, biting down on her emerald lower lip. "Nah. I'm an artist, and the money's good when there's work." She laughed again, and the sound was so different from her earlier twinkly giggle at the bartender's comment that it made Ashley's stomach turn over. "Not the ideal thing a possible housemate wants to hear." 

"Well," Ashley heard herself say before she'd actually thought it through properly. "I'm a singer. And I have an apartment, two bedroomed, cause, umm," She cleared her throat, steeling herself to carry on the sentence, "Lynn liked having a spare. In case anyone ever needed to stop by. She was an author, she's written some cool stuff, so she had some… interesting friends." 

"Anything I'd have heard of?" 

"Huh?" Melanie's question was so far from the eager response Ashley had been expecting, and it made her grin even more. Lynn may be gone, but hell if Ashley was gonna stop spreading the news of her achievements. "Maybe. A couple of years ago, she wrote something called White Noise. It peaked for a little while." 

Eyes widening, Melanie nodded vigorously. "You didn't tell me your Lynn was Lynn Gunn!" 

Surprise mixing with the happiness created by Melanie's enthusiastic response made her voice waver. "Yeah. So you do know it?" 

Melanie slammed her hand down on the bar, and at any other time, Ashley would have looked around, worried, at the few curious glances the sound had attracted. Right now, though, she honestly couldn't give two fucks. "Obviously! White Noise is honestly a piece of actual modern art. I re-read it for about three weeks straight." 

"She was working on something else," Ashley didn't know why she was carrying on, but she was, and fuck it all. "Before the, um, crash." This time, a little tear escaped, rolling down her cheek slowly before it was wiped away hastily with the back of her hand. "Another novel." 

"Really?" Melanie's expression was so full of genuine curiosity, it made Ashley's heart race. "What was it called?" 

"All We Know Of Heaven," Ashley recited. "But she wasn't happy with it. She wanted to add something, but she couldn't think of anything. And now it's too late." 

That was the point where she broke. 

The tears came thick and fast, smearing her mascara in streaky, black lines down her face, as Melanie pulled her into a hug, as well as she could between the two stools they were perched on. Ashley didn't even question it, just buried her face in the other girl's shoulder, and breathed in her sweet, citrusy perfume. And finally, she felt safe again. Safe from the others at the bar, that she couldn't see, vision obscured by the blue shoulders of Melanie's dress. Safe from herself, the emotions that streaked through her mind in the same way the mascara stained her skin, racking through her body in heaving sobs. 

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, in the warm embrace. But when she finally pulled away, Melanie was still there, smile warm and soft and sweet. 

"Hey," She said, as Ashley leaned on her shoulder. "So, All We Know Of Heaven, huh?" 

Ashley nodded. 

"Well, we think we know about heaven," Melanie grinned down at her, and Ashley noticed the small, cute gap between her front teeth. "But nobody really acknowledges the fact that we sorta need hell too, a little bit." 

Her voice was low, rough from the tears, but Ashley managed, "All We Know Of Heaven… All We Need Of Hell." 

She sat back, looking at Melanie with a rush of sudden, overwhelming need. Need to do something. "Melanie, would you accept my offer of a place to live, right here in the city?" 

"Obviously," Melanie replied, eyes sparkling. 

"And," Ashley continued, voice shaky but determined. "Would you, if you wanted to, possibly help me work on a book?" 

"My dear Ashley," she replied. "It would be my honour." 

Ashley leaned forwards again, but this time, she wrapped her arms around the other girl. "Thank you so much." Melanie reciprocated warmly, squeezing her tightly. "It's gonna be awesome." 

When she'd pulled back, Melanie raised her glass, both her drink and eyes gleaming in the dim lighting. "Cheers to new beginnings." 

Ashley clinked her glass, just like she had earlier that evening, but this time, it was hopeful, rather than warily. "Cheers to new beginnings." 

And afterwards, neither was entirely sure who leaned in first, but then they were kissing, and it was warm and fuzzy and tasted of cheap liquor and sweet candy and oranges, although that may have just been Melanie's perfume. 

When they broke away, lips red and eyes wide and happy and slightly dark, Ashley repeated herself one more time, in a quiet whisper, so that only Melanie could hear her. 

"And to letting go what's gone."


End file.
